A few days later, the entire court knew that the Emperor had frequently summoned Pei You’an to the Imperial Study after court sessions to discuss matters of state. They even shared soup and ate from the same bowl during meals. Although the Ministry of Personnel had not yet issued an official notice, this was a sign that the Emperor intended to recall him to service before his mourning period of half a year had been completed.
Such extraordinary favor only confirmed what had long been known: the harmonious relationship between sovereign and subject, and the Emperor’s unusual reliance on and trust in Pei You’an.
Since returning to the capital, Pei You’an had maintained his low profile. Aside from being summoned to the palace, he rarely socialized with colleagues and spent most of his time secluded in his residence. However, there had been a persistent rumor that he had a connection with the Daoist priestess Hen Zhen from the White Crane Temple. Besides treating the priestess’s younger brother for illness, it was said he also had an elegant past of exchanging poetry with her. Upon his return to the capital, he had been seen visiting the temple.
One was a legendary woman with jade-like bones and a fragrant spirit, unlike ordinary people; the other was a remarkable talented gentleman of high position and great reputation. As the saying goes, like Tan Lang and Lady Xie, kindred spirits appreciate each other. Even with his scholar’s cap, the romance of a literary man has been inevitable since ancient times. Presumably, Pei You’an had not been immune to such feelings either, which aroused much envy when mentioned.
At the White Crane Temple, Pei You’an finished examining Chi Hen Zhen’s pulse and checking her condition, then turned to the writing desk, picked up a brush, and dipped it in ink.
Having not seen her for a long time, Chi Hen Zhen was thinner than the yellow flowers, weakened by illness to the point of being unable to bear the weight of her clothes. She had just suffered from severe coughing, and the flush that had gathered on her cheeks had not yet faded. Supporting herself with the help of a young Daoist girl, she followed him over, her face showing embarrassment as she said: “I have been ill for some time. I’ve seen several physicians, but none has been able to improve my condition. Instead, the illness has grown more lingering. The Imperial Physician who came here before was under orders to treat my younger brother, and now I dare not request the Imperial Physician again. This broken body is not worth pitying if it dies, but if something happens to me, my young brother would be left without anyone to care for him. So I had to shamelessly trouble Your Excellency again.”
Pei You’an wrote out a prescription, waited for the ink to dry, and then handed it to another young Daoist girl standing nearby. He turned to Chi Hen Zhen and said gently: “Why do you speak like this? I told you before, whatever difficulty you encounter, feel free to seek me out. What’s more important than your health? Your illness this time is not mild. Besides being caused by physical weakness, I think you have been worrying too much. Internal and external factors combined have led to this persistent illness. Apart from taking medicine according to the prescription, you need to relax your mind and avoid unnecessary thoughts.”
Chi Hen Zhen’s eyes glistened with tears as she nodded in agreement.
Pei You’an looked around and noticed the walls were bare, with much less furniture than before.
“When I entered the temple, I heard from Daoist Qing Xin that you’ve pawned many items recently?”
Chi Hen Zhen replied: “This is a women’s temple. My brother’s health has improved, but after all, there should be a separation between men and women, and I am merely staying here by others’ charity. So I had him move out and entrusted him to a fellow villager who is extremely reliable. However, my brother’s daily expenses require some money. I don’t have much savings, so I gathered some possessions to either pawn or sell. I must look ridiculous to Your Excellency.”
Pei You’an said: “Do you need me to provide some assistance?”
Chi Hen Zhen hurriedly shook her head: “Your Excellency must not. It is precisely because I do not wish to accept help from others that I pawned my belongings. Your Excellency has already helped me greatly, and I only regret that I cannot repay you. How could I ask Your Excellency to provide for me?”
Pei You’an nodded slightly: “Pure spirit and noble ambition. Very well, I will not insult you with worldly goods. But in the future, if you are truly in difficulty, do not be too proud, just let me know.”
Chi Hen Zhen lowered her eyes and bowed deeply to thank him.
Pei You’an packed up the medical kit he had brought and prepared to take his leave. Despite her frail condition, Chi Hen Zhen personally escorted him to the courtyard.
Pei You’an asked her to stay, and after walking a few steps, he suddenly seemed to remember something. After a slight hesitation, he turned back and said in a low voice: “Your grandfather was accomplished in both calligraphy and painting. I remember that Emperor Tianxi once wrote inscriptions on some of his works and even stamped them with his private seal. I wonder, do you still keep all those paintings and calligraphy?”
Chi Hen Zhen recalled the past, her eyes showing desolation: “I’m touched that Your Excellency still remembers my grandfather’s artwork. When our family fell into misfortune back then, we could barely protect ourselves, let alone other possessions. Fortunately, at that time, my grandfather, out of gratitude for the late Emperor’s favor, had already set aside those few pieces with the Emperor’s inscriptions and secretly entrusted them to a close friend. They have now been returned to me. Only these few pieces of calligraphy and painting remain as mementos. May I ask why Your Excellency inquires about this? If you need them, Your Excellency, please wait a moment. I’ll fetch them right away for you to take.”
Pei You’an smiled: “You misunderstand. I see that you, a frail woman, are solely supporting your young brother, and your circumstances must be difficult. Since you are unwilling to accept charity from others, I wanted to remind you that those few pieces with the late Emperor’s inscriptions, if you still have them, should be well preserved. In the future, they will surely be worth a thousand gold pieces.”
Chi Hen Zhen looked confused: “I don’t quite understand Your Excellency’s meaning. Why would they be worth a thousand gold pieces in the future?”
Pei You’an smiled slightly: “Just remember what I said. I must take my leave now. After taking the medicine, if your condition recurs, do not hesitate to send someone to inform me.”
He nodded to Chi Hen Zhen and then turned to leave, his robes swaying gently, his steps steady.
Chi Hen Zhen stared fixedly at the gradually retreating figure, her eyes slowly revealing a look of painful longing as if entranced.
……
In June, the Director of the Imperial Shanglin Park memorialized that the four new gates of Shanglin Park had been completed, now spanning over a hundred li, surrounded by mountains, with lakes and springs facing each other. Inside roamed countless deer, pheasants, and rabbits. Everything was ready, awaiting only the Emperor’s inspection of the results.
Shanglin Park was located west of the city, dozens of li away. It was managed with extreme strictness, with regulations prohibiting unauthorized hunting. Those who violated the prohibition would be punished, with no exceptions even for imperial princes or nobles. Xiao Lie had enjoyed hunting since his youth. He recalled that at sixteen, he had secretly taken a few attendants into the park to hunt. He thoroughly enjoyed himself that day, but the next day, someone reported him to the Emperor. Although the Emperor loved his young son, to set an example, he had no choice but to punish him according to the rules. The circumstances then were shameful, making him a laughingstock among his brothers. Later, at the age of twenty, he was sent to Yunnan, and over the ensuing decades, whenever he felt depressed, he often relieved his feelings through hunting. Now, having ascended the throne, appointing worthy officials, reforming institutions, and governing with diligence, almost two years had passed in busy work without leisure. On this day, seeing the report, he suddenly felt interested. Coincidentally, it was also the time when martial arts examination candidates from various provinces were entering the capital. So he chose a date, ordered the court to be dismissed for a day, and moved the palace examination for martial arts to Shanglin Park. All officials of the fourth rank and above in the capital were to accompany him. It would be both a hunting expedition and an assessment of candidates – accomplishing two tasks at once.
Since Xiao Lie’s ascension, he had been diligent in governance, attending morning court daily regardless of heat or cold, making the civil and military officials spin like tops along with him. Not only did they have to rise at the fourth watch to prepare for the fifth watch morning court, but sometimes they were not even at peace on rest days. When the Emperor summoned, they went immediately, not daring to show the slightest negligence. Upon hearing that the court would finally be dismissed for a day to hunt in Shanglin Park, everyone was delighted. On the night before departure, they all relaxed and prepared to accompany the Emperor the next day. The imperial guards had already entered Shanglin Park several days earlier. The General of the Great Han, the Imperial Guards with swords, and the Shenqiu Camp, along with their commanders, led their subordinates to clear the hunting and training grounds in preparation for the Emperor’s arrival.
The moon that night was somewhat eerie as if nocturnal snow had fallen in June. The woolly white moonlight scattered down upon the glazed tiles of the Eastern Palace’s Liuli Hall, spreading a cold, dim, resentful light.
That night, Crown Prince Xiao Yin Tang’s heart seemed to be split in two by a sharp blade. Half of it was like fire – pulsing, leaping, burning – making his eyes flush with red light and the blood in his veins surge violently. The other half was like the moonlight on the roof tiles, causing a thread of bitter coolness to spread from the depths of his heart.
His father, Xiao Lie, the supreme Emperor of the empire, had finally disappointed him completely.
That night, he had brought the news to him with excitement and good intentions. But his father’s reaction had disappointed him, even angered him.
Before that, he had never imagined that his father had contemplated abdicating the throne to someone else. Even after that night, he still couldn’t believe it. Looking back carefully, he even thought it might have been a test for him.
Until the day when the Crown Princess relayed to him the entire conversation between the Daoist priestess and Pei You’an.
Why had Pei You’an reminded the Daoist priestess to keep safe the calligraphy and paintings inscribed by Emperor Tianxi? He said that in the future, those paintings would be worth a thousand gold pieces. What did that mean?
Once he understood, everything became clear.
Xiao Yu was still alive. As a former official of the Tianxi reign, Pei You’an not only had a close relationship with him but also harbored a feeling for the Tianxi era that others could not comprehend.
It was highly likely that he was persuading Xiao Lie to honor his original promise and welcome the young Emperor back.
Xiao Yin Tang wasn’t certain whether his father had truly been persuaded by him, but Xiao Yin Tang believed, as he had known in his dream, that the Emperor’s feelings for Pei You’an, this son that nobody else knew about, far exceeded those for himself. The Emperor’s trust in and reliance on this son was beyond what ordinary people could imagine.
Given Pei You’an’s shrewdness, he probably wouldn’t directly urge the Emperor to abdicate. But if, over a long period, he were to advise the Emperor to designate the young Emperor as his successor, thus securing his name in history books and eternal fame, this might not be without some attraction for the Emperor.
Xiao Yin Tang knew that Pei You’an could not tolerate him, just as he could not tolerate Pei You’an. Between them, it was a matter of life and death. They both understood this clearly.
Once, Xiao Yin Tang had thought he was the Emperor’s only son. Now he realized that was just a joke.
For over twenty years, the Emperor not only had another son whom he truly loved, but perhaps shortly, would have even more sons.
Even if Pei You’an ultimately failed to get his way, once the Emperor had those sons, given the current estrangement between father and son, how much longer could he remain secure in his position as Crown Prince?
Xiao Yin Tang broke out in a cold sweat.
Everything today was completely different from what he had seen in his dream.
But he stubbornly believed that everything he had seen in his dream was what should have been in this life.
Zhen had indeed been his woman, and he had indeed been the Emperor of this realm.
The reality was different, and the only variable was Pei You’an.
It was he who had taken his woman, and now wanted to take his throne as well.
In this world, the only one who could empower Pei You’an to fight against him was the Emperor.
If the Emperor were gone, the fate awaiting Pei You’an in this life would be nothing more than dying alone, poisoned with a bowl of poison in the frontier.
Right now, the Emperor and his son were sharpening their knives against him, closing in step by step.
Time was running out for him. He had to fight with all his might for himself.
In this three-way struggle between the Emperor, Pei You’an, and himself, just as his dream had shown him, he would be the one laughing last.
……
Early the next day, the streets of the capital were cleared. The imperial guards, under the command of the Marquis of An Yuan and Central Army Commander Liu Jiu Shao, escorted the Emperor with officials following behind. Amidst the kneeling commoners along the road, they majestically left the city for Shanglin Park.
Pei You’an was also supposed to accompany the Emperor, but a few days ago, Chi Hen Zhen’s illness had worsened again. Last night she had a high fever, fell unconscious, and was in an extremely dangerous condition. Upon hearing the news, Pei You’an excused himself to the Emperor, urgently summoned an Imperial Physician, and personally rushed to her side. He stayed up all night, and by this morning, Chi Hen Zhen’s high fever had finally subsided, but she remained unconscious.
The elderly Imperial Physician, having stayed up all night, was now exhausted. Pei You’an asked him to rest while he took a stroll to a stone pavilion in the courtyard.
The stone pavilion was neat, with a stone table and a stone drum seat. Several yellow classics were placed on the table, along with writing materials. This seemed to be where Chi Hen Zhen read and wrote during her leisure time.
Pei You’an entered the pavilion, casually picked up a volume of Daoist classics, browsed it briefly, then set it down. Seemingly inspired, he slowly spread out paper, ground ink, took a silver brush from the brush holder, dipped it thoroughly in ink, and began to write with his wrist suspended.
He had not slept all night, and there were a few faint bloodshot lines in his eyes, but his posture remained as straight as bamboo in the snow – upright and elegant, showing no signs of fatigue. He stood by the stone table, slightly bowing his head, wielding the brush to splash ink, concentrating on his writing.
The morning sun was slowly rising, and a golden ray suddenly shot through a branch of oleander beside the pavilion, entering the pavilion and illuminating him. A sleeve, following the movement of his arm as he wielded the brush, swayed gently in the cool morning breeze.
Chi Hen Zhen stood quietly behind the window, gazing longingly at the man in the pavilion who had gathered the clear breeze in his sleeves. Unable to hold back any longer, she tore off the cold compress that the young Daoist girl had just placed on her forehead. With a “swish,” she pushed open the door and hurried toward the stone pavilion under the surprised gaze of the young Daoist girl.
She was truly seriously ill, her face waxy yellow. After walking just these ten steps or so, cold sweat beaded on her forehead. She reached out to hold onto a pavilion pillar, took two breaths, and said: “Lord Pei, please don’t concern yourself with me! Wherever you should go today, please go quickly! Don’t delay important matters because of me!”
Pei You’an glanced at her, his hand not stopping: “You’re awake? Go back to your room and rest.”
“Lord Pei!”
Chi Hen Zhen’s face was anxious. She stepped forward, her legs gave way, and she fell on the pavilion steps. Struggling to sit up, she said: “Lord Pei, please leave quickly! Don’t worry about me anymore!”
Pei You’an’s expression remained unchanged. He finished writing the last character, looked it over, slowly placed the brush back on the rack, and then turned to look at Chi Hen Zhen kneeling on the stone steps, his expression calm, saying nothing.
“Lord Pei, I don’t want to deceive you anymore. Some days ago, my brother was taken away. Someone threatened me with his life, forcing me to spy on you. I dared not disobey, so I had to lie to you against my will. To Fugn illness, I immersed myself in ice water and afterward didn’t take the medicine you prescribed. A few days ago, I was told again that I must keep you at the temple today, not allowing you to leave for even a moment, or my brother would lose his life…”
Chi Hen Zhen’s face was covered with tears.
“Was it the Crown Princess?” Pei You’an asked calmly.
Chi Hen Zhen closed her eyes: “Yes!”
“Everyone praises my integrity, but no one knows that in my heart, there is also mud and dirty water. I never willingly resigned myself to spending my life in a Daoist temple. When the Crown Princess approached me, though I hesitated, I ultimately couldn’t bear to cut ties with the red dust of the mortal world, hoping to elevate my status. Little did I know I would end up entrapping myself, falling to this state today!”
Her tears flowed unceasingly.
“…Lord Pei, you called me pure-spirited and noble-minded the other day. How could I deserve such praise? You remember my grandfather’s teacher-student relationship with you and have treated me with the utmost sincerity, yet I have deceived you like this! Please leave quickly, go wherever you need to go today! If you don’t leave soon, I fear something terrible will happen!”
She fell onto the steps, weeping bitterly.
Pei You’an looked down at her for a moment, then came down from the pavilion steps and walked away.
After a long while, the young Daoist girl finally summoned the courage to approach and help her up, seating her on the nearby stone drum.
Chi Hen Zhen gazed at the ink-covered paper still spread on the stone table.
“Thousands of scrolls of poetry, thousands of cups of wine. How often have I cast my eyes upon marquises and kings? Reluctant to return to jade towers and golden palaces, I’d rather stick plum blossoms in my hair and get drunk in Luoyang.”
“A thousand chariots for a marquis, ten thousand chariots for a king. The wind blows the jade flute as plum blossoms begin to fall, wine ripples in golden cups as the moon has yet to wane, and all marquises and kings end up in the mounds of the nine springs.”
The first half of the verse is taken from Zhu Yan Huo’s “Partridge Sky,” and the latter half from Liu Chang An of the early Tang Dynasty’s “Spring Evening Nostalgia.”
A ray of morning sunlight fell upon the bold handwriting where the ink had not yet fully dried, each character strong and dignified.
Chi Hen Zhen’s eyes were blurred with tears as she murmured the verses. When she turned her head to look for that figure again, he had already disappeared beyond the courtyard gate.
……
That day, the news shook the court and society.
While hunting at Shanglin Park and conducting the palace examination for martial arts candidates, the Emperor was attacked by an assassin. The situation was extremely dangerous, but fortunately, Liu Jiu Shao was meticulously observant and had somehow detected the plot beforehand. Before the assassin could approach, Liu Jiu Shao’s men captured him. The Emperor, shocked, ordered an immediate preliminary investigation on the spot, which revealed the assassin was sent by remnants of Prince Shun An’s faction. Furious, the Emperor returned to the palace and dismissed the court for three days. While the officials were anxiously speculating, three days later, unexpectedly, the Emperor issued an edict of self-reproach.
The edict stated: “The Prince of Shun An and I were brothers, born of the same ancestors and father, connected by blood. Yet unexpectedly, the brothers turned against each other, and I did not preserve the brotherly bond, leading to deep grievances and family shame. Last night I dreamed of our ancestors reproaching me. Upon waking, I was filled with trepidation, fearing I would be unable to face our ancestors in the afterlife. I should personally return to our ancestral lands in Geng Province to guard the tombs and reflect, but I am bound by my duties to the realm and its people. Fortunately, the Crown Prince, in his filial piety, is willing to give up his position as Crown Prince and, as a commoner, go in his father’s stead to guard the ancestral tombs, thus fulfilling his filial duty.”
When this self-reproach edict was issued, the entire court was in an uproar. Elder Zhang and Zhou Xing sought an audience with the Emperor. When they emerged, their faces were ashen, and they could barely walk without the support of their attendants.
Two days later, Elder Zhang submitted a memorial requesting retirement due to his advanced age and declining health, which the Emperor approved. The Zhou family was not so fortunate; Zhou Jin was demoted for the crime of forming a faction, and subsequently, fearing punishment, committed suicide in the prison of the Court of Judicature. This case implicated dozens of officials.
In just half a month, such earth-shattering changes had occurred at court. The atmosphere was tense, with civil and military officials all fearing for themselves. On the surface, they submitted memorials supporting the self-reproach edict and praising the Crown Prince’s filial piety, but secretly, terrifying news spread rapidly.
It was said that the assassination attempt at Shanglin Park that day was revealed to be a conspiracy between the Crown Prince and Zhou Jin. The Emperor was extremely angry, executing Zhou Jin and deposing the Crown Prince, ordering him to be imprisoned at the ancestral lands for life, and never permitted to step out. If he did, he would be executed without mercy.
This was the Emperor’s death order, with absolutely no possibility of change.